


Sixteen Days

by aneth_ara



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Can be read as friends or lovers, Character Death, Depression, M/M, Sad, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:33:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7117780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aneth_ara/pseuds/aneth_ara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sadness ensues after something awful happens. Days feel like years and the pain feels inescapable.<br/>Also, I've put an interesting twist on the writing so that the story can be read from either Dan or Phil's point of view.<br/>Just a thing I've worked on little by little when bored.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sixteen Days

**Author's Note:**

> TW;;; suicide and death.  
> be safe my friends.

It had been sixteen days since he died. It was hard. It was really hard. He just went to the store to grab a few things. When he got back, he was already gone. It was a stroke. He was confused. Strokes were supposed to happen when you were old. He had so much ahead of him. So much to see, so much to do. Dan and Phil, the dynamic duo. It broke his heart to think about it. Now it was just him. He was nothing without the other.  
The second day, he sprayed his cologne in his room. But he couldn't stand the reminder of him, being enveloped by one of things that made him himself, and he shut off both rooms forever.  
He couldn't stay in the office. It was where they started the games channel and he couldn't stand to think about YouTube. He couldn't think about a video camera without vomiting.  
It was hard to stay in the lounge, even though he took down all the decorations in it. It was where they watched anime, where they sat next to each other scrolling through social media. Or where one of them was trying to be quiet and not laugh while the other did a live show.  
It was hard. He couldn't even go in the kitchen because the door reminded him of the many nights they've both ran into it when they were trying to get food because they made the mistake of staying up until 4 am. He was reminded of the baking videos, and the flour all over their jeans the day before a show.  
Four days after he died, he cleaned every inch of the flat. It was the day after his funeral. He got rid of everything he could. He couldn't stand it. He tried to clean to get rid of his presence, but he would never go. His presence, personality, HE was engraved into the apartment. His foot prints would forever remain padding throughout the flat and his laugh would never cease to echo through the rooms.  
He threw away the first copy they got of their book because it hurt to look at it. He threw away the souvenirs they collected on the US tour because he wouldn't have the other to reminisce with anymore.  
On the tenth day, he went to the fridge to get water. It was the first time since he died that he tried to do anything functional other than cleaning the flat. He broke down in the kitchen when he opened the door and the golden pig from Japan greeted him.  
Their friends tried. Louise, Peej, Chris, Felix, Marzia, Joe, Casp, all of them. They tried. They were upset too, but they couldn't handle losing him as well. They came over, but he couldn't bear to get up. They probably called, but he never plugged his phone in after he died.  
He tried. He did. On the twelfth day he got up. He turned on the shower and told himself he needed to get back in order. But he never made it to the shower. He went back to his room to get clothes before getting in the shower and as soon as he opened the door he remembered all the videos filmed, all the late nights spent in there. He just laid down on the ground.  
His heart ached. He missed him so much. He thought about getting on Twitter. Their audience knew he had died, but he was sure they were concerned about him. It had been a little over two weeks now, and he knew he had to do something. He opened his laptop, but his background was a picture of the two and he immediately shut it. He felt dizzy. He felt weak and stupid. He felt guilty. He shouldn't be acting like this. But the pain was unbearable and it only got worse. He didn't know how people handled it. It was a very close seven years together, and it was so hard. Without the other he didn't have a personality. Or a heart. Or energy or happiness or anything. He didn't understand but he couldn't stand it.  
He knew it was dangerous. He was getting sick, he could feel his body getting weaker from not eating or moving or drinking. He was very fragile now. It was the fifteenth day when he could barely manage to get up anymore. The mental exhaustion and trauma combined with the lack of nutrients was taking a toll on his body. He didn't even get up to go to the bathroom that day.  
It had been sixteen days since he died. It was hard. It was really hard. And he honestly didn't know if he could last any longer. He felt selfish for just seemingly dropping off the face of the Earth, for abandoning his friends who needed him and their audience who was distraught. He felt guilty for not being there when he died, for not appreciating him more. He hadn't felt anything for so long and now he was feeling everything at once and his head just wouldn't stop buzzing. That's when it prevailed. He had already become practically non existent. The audience liked the other more than him, he was useless without his partner. Their friends were sick of the way he was acting. And honestly, without the other he wasn't himself. That's when the thought prevailed that if he wasn't coming back then the solution was to go with him.  
He had one foot off the chair, noose wrapped around his neck. He told himself that if he hesitated he wouldn't do it. He felt like a coward for taking the easy way out, but he had to try because this felt like the only option left for him. But as he was a second away from death, all he felt was happiness. So, with the other he went, to his source of warmth, happiness, laughter. It had been sixteen days since he died, and it was just too hard.

**Author's Note:**

> just so you know, this is all supposed to be written from inside the mind, so if i have said something to offend remember the view is distorted because it's coming from the mind of someone who is undergoing extreme grief and pain, resulting in guilt. for example, i think the general consensus is we love the boys equally but with the depression he is convinced that that is not the truth. or his friends being sick of how he was acting. of course they miss old him buy they understand. it had only been 16 days which isnt that long, just felt long to him because the guilt was eating him. okay im rambling, thanks for reading friends


End file.
